Snow Angels
by Atavaka
Summary: Gotz's family died in a blizzard fifteen years ago. Karen, visiting Gotz in the midst of a hard winter, witnesses the woodcutter's lonely haunting for herself and must fight to keep him from unraveling completely... FoMT BTN Karen's POV


**Snow Angels**

By Atavaka

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its affiliated characters. They belong to Natsume.

**AN:** _After reading several very inspiring fics, I decided to try writing something a little different from what I have written in the past: a ghost story based very, very loosely on Poe's _The Raven_. Enjoy!_

**First Discourse **

Before we start, I want to make sure no one misunderstands me. This isn't about me. It's about Gotz.

I realize this isn't my story to tell, but I don't think Gotz could tell you even if he tried. You see, I'm the only person who saw what really happened. I'm the only person who saw everything. And I swear it's true, every last word.

Oh, and before I get too far ahead of myself, a question: Do you believe in ghosts?

I don't. Not in the way horror movies would have you believe in them. However, I do think people can be haunted. Haunted by memories, that is.

I've always told people to put the past behind them. What's done is done; no point in beating yourself up over that which can't be changed. I tell them to go on, make mistakes, skin those knees, bash those noggins, then learn and live life to fullest. Almost like a series of self-help mantras, huh?

Too bad I'm a bit of a hypocrite. But, then, isn't it better to teach from experience?

You see, Mineral Town is a small place. And the smaller a place is, the more likely your past will come back and bite you in the behind.

Take me for instance. I grew up here, and I was friends with all of the local kids. My best friend, though, was Rick, the boy from the poultry farm. He was a skinny little shrimp (which is hard to believe if you look at him now!), who had a fiery red mullet and wore some of the most fantastic eyewear you could imagine. Appearances can be deceiving, but Rick was exactly what he looked like: a pathetic little wimp.

The first time I really met Rick, he was lying on the ground, sobbing in front of my parents' supermarket. A circle of bigger boys encircled him, calling him names like "chicken boy" and "chicken wuss." Notice the recurring theme?

There were more kids living in Mineral Town back then. More boys, at least. I remember because all of them used to beat the shit out of Rick. Well, they did until Ann, Rick's little sister Popuri, and I put a stop to them at Popuri's request. Little boys can be so stupid; I swear they don't learn to cover the family jewels in fights until age eight. It only took one wave of knees connecting with groins to convince Rick's tormentors that their time was best spent elsewhere.

The bullies fled and I knelt down beside Rick. He wasn't embarrassed that three girls just rescued his scrawny hide; on the contrary, he seemed to worship us. No wait, that's not quite right; Rick worshipped me. From the moment his thankful, tear-filled eyes met my own, his pre-pubescent soul was mine.

"Are you alright?" I asked, helping him up.

He nodded. His cheeks were still glistening with tears.

The rest is, as they say, history. I became one of Rick's childhood heroes. He would do every ridiculous thing I would say and participate in every silly little game. When I wanted to go hunting for the harvest sprites, he brought an empty chicken feed crate and some carrots as "bait" for our sprite trap. When I wanted to marry a kappa, he let me cast a make-believe spell on him that involved covering his body in honey and pine needles. I didn't realize he was allergic to pine needles, and his face looked like a strawberry for an entire month. Yes, Rick did everything I wanted him to, and never complained once.

That was before we were teenagers. Before everything changed. Before my terrible mistake.

Before I broke Rick's heart.

Jeez, listen to me. I sound so, so… self-centered. Vain. You're probably thinking: "What the hell does this have to do with Gotz and ghosts and memories and stuff?" Well, there is a point to my ramblings, but I think I'm getting a little ahead of myself. Let me change tracks for a bit and talk about Gotz.

Gotz was, and still is, the woodcutter and unofficial carpenter of Mineral Town. Although he is responsible for the majority of the village's recent structural renovations (including, but not limited to, the addition on the library and Kai's beach shack), he doesn't live in town. Instead, he lives in small log cabin at the base of Mother Hill, all by his lonesome.

It wasn't always that way. For a while, he roomed with this weird old man named Louis, who was obsessed with insects.

And before that, he lived with his wife and daughter. I remember their names from the times Rick and I played behind the cabin, back when we were little. Miss Elayne was always baking chocolate chip and honey cookies so that there were enough for everyone. Then there was sweet little Emily, always running around with pig tails and pink ribbons in her hair. Gotz's beloved wife and daughter.

I'm sure you've already guessed that they're dead. That is, assuming you didn't know already.

After all, how could this be a ghost story… without the ghost?

**AN:** _It took a surprising amount of energy to write this short introductory chapter._ _I really want to continue this no matter what, though I have no clue when I'll next update. Usually, I like to have written several chapters of a story before I post anything, but it's been such a long time since I published anything that I was kind of desperate. Like a junkie looking for a quick fix._

…_I just compared writing fanfiction to getting high. Don't let anyone tell you that sleep deprivation does wonders for your creativity. It doesn't. And anyone who thinks so should die._

_-Cheers!_

_Atavaka_


End file.
